


red-stained fingertips

by afjakwrites



Series: afjak writes flash fanfiction [22]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angry Zuko (Avatar), Blood and Injury, Broken Noses, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Hurt Aang, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Protectiveness, Short Fight Scene, bc zuko goes feral when someone tries to hurt aang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afjakwrites/pseuds/afjakwrites
Summary: Aang is injured during an attempted attack on the Firelord, and although his wounds are small, they lead to some big changes.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: afjak writes flash fanfiction [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619170
Comments: 19
Kudos: 448





	red-stained fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> _72\. Bruised and bloodied_
> 
> i know that it doesn't make much sense for the avatar to get hurt in a fight like this but i really like that trope that's like character a: (gets hurt), character b: (goes feral) so here we are!
> 
> also, although there is no serious injury/violence in this fic, there is multiple mentions of blood so please be careful if that freaks you out!

They kiss for the first time in the half-destroyed remnants of a Palace hallway. 

The wall had been blown out moments earlier by a strong explosion, followed quickly by the entrance of a masked intruder intent on capturing Zuko. The fight is a short one. The intruder manages to land one solid hit on Zuko while he’s distracted by the commotion, and the Firelord stumbles back with a cry of shock rather than pain. That’s all it takes for Aang to jump to his defense; he leaps into the intruder’s path and promptly avoids a swipe from the business end of a rather large knife.

Or, Zuko thinks he avoids it until Aang hisses in pain, jumping back and bringing a hand to his cheek. When he pulls it away, red stains his fingertips. All things considered, the cut is shallow. It’d hardly broken the skin, and Aang doesn’t seem at all phased by it—he’s endured far worse, Zuko knows. That doesn’t stop the searing fury that burns through him at the sight of Aang bleeding, though. 

While Aang’s distracted, the attacker takes another swing at him. The airbender’s hands fly up a fraction of a second too late, and the gust of wind he’d been shoving toward his assailant dissipates as a foot slams into his stomach, sending him flying backward. He hits the wall with a loud  _ thud  _ and a dull groan, leaping back to his feet with a grimace. The attacker is on him already, swiping at Aang with the knife and kicking out at the man. Aang dodges every hit easily by ducking low, jumping up, or twisting out of the way in order to avoid hits without counterattacking. It only takes a few moments for Aang to smoothly disarm the attacker, knocking their knife away and sending it skidding across the floor.

For a moment, Zuko just watches them fight, mesmerized. Aang is fascinating to observe in battle, smooth and flexible like a gust of wind. He dances around his opponent with a familiar determination in his grey eyes: the fierce determination to win, but to do so without causing harm to anyone else. Zuko has always admired that strength, the unyielding appreciation for human life that Aang always carries with him. Sometimes, Zuko thinks he could do it, too—commit to nonviolence at all times. 

And then Aang’s eyes snap to a point over his shoulder, and he cries Zuko’s name in alarm.  His assailant manages to land an exceptionally hard punch to the Avatar’s face while he’s distracted, and suddenly the Firelord's idea of being nonviolent flies out the window. He’s going to make them _pay_ for hurting Aang, right after he deals with whatever the man was trying to warn him about. 

Zuko twists on his heel and kicks a foot out, swiping the legs of an oncoming attacker out from underneath them. At the end of the hallway, he can see guards rushing towards them; the fight will most certainly be over with their help. Zuko bends a rather large burst of fire at his attacker, causing them to stumble back and fall directly into a Palace guard. 

He turns his back before he can watch them be restrained, already lunging toward Aang’s attacker with an enraged snarl. It takes about ten seconds to knock the intruder to the ground with their hands up, but Zuko isn’t finished yet. Aang is on the ground, cupping his hands around his nose with blood running through his fingers, and Zuko is blinded by rage at the sight. He leaps onto his opponent, rips their mask away, and pulls his fist back, seething. He hits them hard, fist colliding with their jaw with a satisfying _ crack _ . They cry out in pain, but it isn’t _ enough _ . Zuko raises his fist again, brings it down upon his attacker. But before it can connect, he’s stopped.

Aang has leapt forward with a yelp, catching Zuko’s arm in both of his own. Zuko tries to wrench himself away, but Aang hooks an arm around his waist and hauls him off. The Firelord thrashes in his hold, watching with fury as his guards pick Aang’s wounded attacker off the ground and restrain him. It isn’t until he realizes that Aang is speaking, is  _ shouting _ —“Zuko! Zuko, please,  _ stop! _ ”—that he finally relents, going limp in Aang’s arms. 

While the guards drag the two intruders away from the scene of the fight, Zuko twists in Aang’s arms to face the man. 

In his attempt to stop Zuko, the airbender has let his hands fall away from his face, giving a complete view of his injuries. Aang’s nose is bent at an odd angle and blood flows from the wound like a faucet. At the sight of it, Zuko’s temper flares again. Were it not for Aang’s sturdy hand on his arm, quelling his fury, he would have almost certainly chased after Aang’s assailant to take his anger out on them.

“Zuko,” Aang says, his voice stuffy and slightly warbled. His eyes are watering, droplets clinging to his lashes and leaking down his cheeks. Blood drips from his chin, and he quickly cups his red-stained hands back around his nose. 

“ _ Bastards _ ,” Zuko growls as he leans in closer, using the end of his sleeve to soak up some of the blood. “They’ll get the maximum sentence. Injuring the Avatar won’t be forgiven.”

He means for his words to be reassuring, but Aang frowns instead. “I’m okay,” he says. 

“You’re  _ hurt _ ,” insists the Firelord with a deep scowl. “They hurt you and they’re going to pay.”

“They were going after you, not me; I just got in the way. If anything, they should be punished for trying to harm the Firelord.” Aang argues as he flattens his palm against the wall behind him, using it to steady himself as he makes to stand. 

Zuko hooks a hand underneath Aang’s arm and helps him to his feet. Aang stumbles forward with a groan, his hand slipping away from the wall and travelling to his stomach. He curls his fingers beneath the hem of his light tunic and raises it; redness has already swelled around the area where he’d sustained a kick, promising to become a spectacularly ugly bruise within a few days. The sight of it makes Zuko even angrier, if it were possible.

How dare anyone lay a finger on someone as kind and genuinely well-meaning as Aang? Himself, he understands; he’s worked tirelessly to prove that he’s a changed man in the six years since the war’s end, but there are still old wounds left untreated in the hearts of many that he’s hurt in the past.  _ Aang _ , on the other hand… Aang has always tried to do good, to put others first. It’s hard to believe that anyone could have it out for him, especially at such a peaceful, prosperous time—a time that Aang is largely responsible for bringing into being. 

“They didn’t hurt me,” Zuko says dismissively as he guides Aang’s arm over his shoulders, supporting more of his weight. “And even if they had, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t the first attempt on my life, and it won’t be the last. It comes with the territory.”

“The fact that it happens often makes it  _ more _ concerning, you know,” Aang returns with a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should take up a position as one of your personal guards.” 

It’s meant as a joke more than anything, but the thought makes Zuko’s heart clench painfully in his chest and he growls out a firm, “ absolutely not .” 

Aang’s eyes snap to his, grey against amber. He’s frowning at Zuko like the man is a puzzle he just can’t solve. “Right, you probably wouldn’t want to spend all day babysitting me, huh?” He retorts coldly, the hurt in his tone obvious. 

“I’m not—” Zuko quickly bites back the snarky reply that wants to fall from his lips. The last thing he wants to do right now is argue with Aang. “That’s not it all,” he says at length. 

Aang is still staring at him, eyes flickering across Zuko’s features with obvious concern. “Then what is it?”

It’s a fair question, but the idea of explaining his reasoning makes Zuko flush. Why  _ doesn’t _ he want Aang to act as one of his guards when they’re together? There are multiple answers, but the most important one is: he doesn’t want Aang to get hurt, plain and simple. The idea of seeing their airbender like he is now—clutching at his broken nose, bleeding profusely, limping from the pain in his stomach—makes Zuko afraid, makes him angry, makes him  _ hurt _ . He’d go mad with worry, and he’d hate himself for putting the man he loved in harm’s way. The idea of Aang hurting for any reason was hard enough to bear as it was: knowing that it was because of him would eat Zuko alive, just like it was now. 

“How would you feel if I put myself in harm’s way for you, then? If I became your guard, threw myself into the line of fire to protect you?” Zuko asks instead of answering, even though it’s a pointless question. He’s pretty sure he knows how Aang would feel about that, and he’s also sure that he doesn’t care. Zuko would gladly put himself between Aang and whatever dangers he encountered for the rest of his life, no matter how many scoldings he had to endure from the airbender afterward. As long as Aang was safe, it would be worth it. 

“No one has to sacrifice themselves for the other’s sake,” Aang argues. “Why can’t we protect each other?”

“I don’t want you to protect me, you’re too important!” Zuko huffs, temper rising unbidden. 

In his anger, Zuko accidentally tugs Aang forward a bit too harshly as they hobble toward the Palace healer. Aang lets out a strangled little cry of pain, quickly muffling the sound, but Zuko has already frozen in place. 

“Aang,” he gasps, “I’m sorry—”

Aang shakes his head and Zuko shuts his mouth, blinking stupidly. “Stop,” the airbender says gently. “Stop acting like you’re unimportant, or like I’m wrong for wanting to keep you safe. We’re friends, Zuko. Friends take care of each other. So let me look out for you every once and awhile, and I’ll let you look after me, too. Okay?” 

Zuko sees the corners of Aang’s eyes pull up as he smiles; he wishes Aang would lower his hand and let him see his smile in full, even if it’s a bloody one. Affection drowns out the Firelord’s anger and he deflates, instantly tamed by Aang’s gentle kindness. 

“Alright,” he sighs. More little wrinkles appear at the corners of Aang’s eyes, and Zuko feels like a fool for being so weak to him. 

They hobble a little further down the hall in silence, and then Aang pipes up again, “I haven’t seen you that angry in a long time.”

Zuko’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I don’t like to see any of my friends hurt,” he answers, voice clipped.

Of course, this response is hardly enough to satisfy Aang’s curiosity. “Yeah, but… It seemed different, somehow. You weren’t yourself. It was…” Aang trails off, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air. 

Zuko meets his eyes again and asks, voice strained, eyes widened in horror, “do I scare you?”

“No, of course not!” Aang cries instantly, appalled. “You could never. I just, I don’t want you to hurt someone and regret it later. I know how much you think about some of the times from the past.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t regret getting a few more hits in for one second, if they were on that guy,” Zuko tells him with a sour frown, glaring at the floor as they walk.

“I think he learned his lesson after the first punch.” Aang teases. 

“Yeah, well, he deserved a lot more for what he did to you,” grumbles Zuko. 

“Zuko…” Aang murmurs in response, and stops walking. 

The Firelord stalls and turns his head in a silent question, only to gape when Aang’s red-stained fingers come to his face, followed quickly by the man’s lips. The kiss is slow and tastes of metal, but Zuko doesn’t care; he kisses back, shivering when Aang’s hand slips from his face to the back of his neck. Aang tugs him in closer, and Zuko goes without fight, whimpering against Aang’s lips. He’s so  _ weak,  _ and it feels so good. Aang’s mouth on his, their bodies pressed together—it’s better than anything Zuko’s ever felt before. 

Desperate for more, he steps closer. Zuko takes Aang’s face in his hands and nearly crushes their lips together, only to abruptly jerk away when Aang cries out in pain. 

“Aang!” Cries the flustered Firelord, watching with guilt and worry as Aang’s hands fly up to cup his nose once more. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Aang laughs, and then winces at the sight of Zuko’s red-smeared lips and cheek. “I’m making a mess. Healer first, and then more of that?” He suggests with a grin.

Zuko couldn’t care less about the mess, but he does care about Aang’s health. “Yes,” he agrees, already pulling the man toward the Healer’s room, “yes, please.”


End file.
